Dear Diary

This is dedicated to every woman who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine. A must read!

Dear Diary,

For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.  Although I am still in great shape since playing on my high school softball team, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.  I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer I’ll call Bruce, who identified himself as a 31 year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started.  The club encouraged me to keep a diary of my progress.

Monday:

Started my day at 6:00 am.  Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Bruce waiting for me.  He is something of a Greek God – with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Bruce gave me a tour and showed me the machines.  He took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill.  He was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his Lycra aerobic outfit.  I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today.  Very inspiring. Bruce was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.  This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

Tuesday:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Was a little late from having to stop twice to pee. Bruce made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air — then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Bruce’s rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It’s a  whole  new life for me.

Wednesday:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it.  I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn’t try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Bruce was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members.  His voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Bruce put me on the stair monster.  Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by  elevators?  Bruce told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.

Thursday:

Bruce was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn’t help being a half an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes.  Bruce took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the ladies’ room.  He sent Gretchen to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine — which I sank.

Friday:

I hate that bastard Bruce. Skinny, anemic little cheerleader wannabe. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Bruce wanted me to work on my triceps. I don’t have any triceps! And if you don’t want dents in the floor, don’t hand me the F#%*=~ barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn’t it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

Saturday:

Bruce left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him made me want to smash the machine with my heating pad. However, I  lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

Sunday:

I’m having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun — like a root canal or a hysterectomy!

 

 

Email received from Joan M December 2001. It cracked me up then and it cracks me up still after all these years!  

I came up with the idea for this new post series while sorting through old files stored on my external hard drives of old emails I collected.  I neither wanted to keep or delete to keep them.  I remembered how much fun it was to get daily nuggets of humor or inspiration from friends, so I decided to recirculate the email content and if you have an email subscription to CAAC then it’ll kind of be like sharing these things with you like in those bygone-days.  No comments, needed. If you want, you’re welcome to click “like” to let me know you stopped by. 

 

 

I’m trying to establish a new norm in Blogosphere. This post being not only on the last Friday of the month but DH’s work Friday is a good time to put up my responses to this Friday’s Friendly Fill-ins.

 

 

Join me tomorrow for a new edition of Battle of the Bands. Have a blessed day!